


That red lip classic thing that you like.

by dinnafashnow



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2619800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinnafashnow/pseuds/dinnafashnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the rounds of promotion at San Diego Comic Con, Sam and Cait try to work out how to exist outside their Scottish bubble. A quick catch-up before the worldwide premiere to release some tension, or perhaps to add some more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That red lip classic thing that you like.

"No, Sam. No! No, no, no no NO SAM I SAID NO."

Cait's shoulder, pressed against the door of her hotel room, full body weight behind it, still wasn't strong enough for the burly intruder who was exerting his own force (and with it a fair deal more muscle) from the other side of the door.

"I just want to say hi, just let me in!"

She anticipated not winning the door struggle in any case and so took a step back, allowing him to barrel into the room and recover his balance as she let the door click locked again behind him.

 

He looked good. He looked really good, kilted and smug as all get out. Damn it all to hell. He was turning to face her as she appraised him silently, his eyes working their way from her bare feet, over her dress, to her face. He quirked an eyebrow and smoothed his hands over his jacket.

"Scrubbed up all right this time, Balfe, but I think shoes are preferable for a red carpet event. Just a suggestion."

"Back off, they're just here. They don't go on until it's time to walk out. You try wearing heels."

"I'll stick to my skirt for now. The dress is nice."

"Thank you. I need it to remain that way," she warned, teasing, but the smirk slipped as he approached her with a glint in his eye. She balled her hands into fists and pressed them to her sides. "I'm serious, Sam, I've just—we've just finished hair and makeup! I can't—you'd better not, if you want to make it out of here alive."

"I need you." His voice was low, and hit her in her very centre. How did he learn to do that? He was a monster. "I need—today has been exhausting. I just—I'll be quick. We can be quick," he murmured, eyes fixed on her neck. Her neck? She tilted her head to one side, trying to catch his eyes with hers, to lock him in to her gaze and keep his eyes from wandering.

"Sam... I'm knackered. Today was big enough, tonight's going to be bigger. You need to harness that... energy. There's a red carpet, there's interviews, there's the panel after, there's so much left yet."

 

Despite her protests, his hands slid onto her hips. She backed against the door, and he followed, step for step. He leaned against her, his breath hot on her neck. She took a deep breath.

"I mean it, Sam. The car call is fifteen minutes away. Fifteen minutes! This is quiet time! Look at me, I'm ready to go! I need you to not wreck this!" She craned her head back and unballed one hand to gesture to her face, the perfectly slicked and and finished hair, the carefully applied coatings, the red lipstick.

He respectfully took a step back, removing his hands and clasping them together against his chest. His eyes left hers and roved down again, back up to hers.

"You do look verra nice."

"Rolling your Rs is cheating. Cut it out."

Another filthy smirk, and he was approaching again.

 

Trouble. Sam Heughan, constant trouble. Made of trouble. Made of a thousand promises and imminent danger. Warning flags and quiet words from more than one person on more than one occasion and yet here she was, and here he was, and she did what she could to not encourage him and yet he kept being here, there and everywhere he shouldn't be. Cait covered her face with her hands, peeking through the cracks of her fingers.

 

"What are you doing here, Sam?"

"I have to have you. I'll be quick, I swear, I won't mess you up."

"You can't, I've just come from hair and makeup. Cooper will slaughter you. I'll slaughter you."

"I want to slaughter you."

"Stop."

 

He slid back up against her, pressing her to the door. She turned her face to one side, squeezing her eyes closed and balling her fists back against her sides. She wanted it, but she didn't want it, but she did. The Sam Dilemma. He wasn't an uninvited presence, but he was, but he wasn't. His lips came to rest against the pulse beating in her neck as his hands made their way across her hips again to find the zip at the back of her dress, and then his hands were gone. And then they were back, this time sliding up her thighs. She squeaked, eyes opening as she turned her head to butt her cheek against his temple, leaving a faint smear of powder in his hair.

 

She scowled, resting one hand against his shoulder and gritting her teeth as she brushed fingers through his hair to remove the evidence. Once she was satisfied that others would be satisfied, her hand dropped to his shoulder and she quickly became aware that during her fussing, the bastard's hands had come up to cup her arse. His thumbs were tucked under the top of her underwear, the back of her dress bunched up. This would never do. She shoved him backwards, the action actually effective for once due to catching him off guard. The good thing about Sam was that he had a fairly one track mind.

 

"Cait, please."

 

His big stupid blue eyes were focused on her. Quite often focused on her. Even if she wasn't looking at him, she felt them on her. In Scotland it was safe, felt safe. Here it was a completely different story. Everything was strange and overwhelming and screaming fans she didn't deserve yet and PR always one step behind her and yet still, here was Sam, and he wasn't strange and maybe she did deserve him and this and maybe she felt safe the closer he was to her. And yet overwhelmed.

 

"Sam."

"You're killing me. I'll be quick."

"I hate quick."

He barked out a laugh, grinning, wolf teeth glinting, beautiful boy. "I would rather take my time, but needs must."

"Time check?"

"Still..." She followed his glance over to the blinking LED of the hotel alarm clock. "—still twelve minutes, if that's correct."

"I guess it'll have to be."

 

Caitriona took a step away from the door and reached her arms up over her head to undo the zipper on her dress. Sam's eyebrows raised ever so slightly and his lips pursed, holding back a comment, something smartarsed that could just as quickly lose him what he seemed to be assuming was his victory. He was stretching a hand out to offer assistance, but Cait shook her head, her dress already falling off her shoulders. Years of model practise meant she was a deft hand at a quick change and his big fingers would only get in the way. She hung her dress back up in the wardrobe just near the door and shrugged her shoulders.

 

"I said I didn't want you ruining it, I meant it."

Sam snorted in response and reached his hand back out for her, seeking her hand this time. She stepped forward and gave it over, but arched backward as he leant in for a kiss.

"No! Nope. Not joking."

"Well, that's going to get in the way of me sticking my tongue down your throat."

"Charming, Sam. You're the one with little patience!"

"I am," he agreed, huffing in disappointment and dropping to his knees, ungraciously sticking his tongue in Cait's navel and hooking his fingers under the top of her knickers, tugging down gently. She shrieked and stumbled backward slightly, only assisting Sam further with the underwear removal, but also removing herself from his tongue's immediate reach.

"You're a nutter."

"I had to put my tongue somewhere, "he replied, looking up as he shuffled forward on his knees and ran two fingers up the inside of her thigh.

Cait very carefully resisted the urge to bite her lip, as that action too would cause damage to her lipstick. She tried to shift back further but found the counter top just behind her, so perched on it instead.

"There's no time," she whispered, heart beating a little faster.

"Don't lie. You can see the clock from there, keep watch."

"Your beard... scruff... thingy, it'll—"

"I'll wash it."

 

Sam finished edging her knickers down her legs and she lifted her feet to step out of them, watching for what he'd do with them. She couldn't help herself; Cait reached out a hand for them.

"Give those here, please."

"They're verra nice ones."

"Well they're my dressy ones, aren't they."

"Of course. I'm not wearing any," he smirked, handing the lacy piece over and bending forward to jut his nose against her and put his tongue somewhere else entirely.

 

Cait gasped and lost any sense of a retort, her balled-up fist hitting the counter. She arched her back slightly, pushing against him. He curled his tongue and ran one of his big, warm hands up her leg, stopping to grasp behind her knee as he licked the length of her. With a heavy exhale, she rested her weight steadier against the counter and moved to lift her other leg, to hook it over his shoulder, when her eye caught the clock's flashing LED again.

"Eight minutes."

Sam's fingers tickled the sensitive skin behind her knee and she let out an unrestrained giggle, thumping him on the shoulder as he got to his feet again, giving her a grin through gritted teeth.

"I may need to owe you one," he muttered, leaning in for a kiss, even more narrowly avoided this time as Cait jerked her head up at the last moment, Sam's lips landing on her chin. He dropped his head onto her bare shoulder and snorted with amusement. "Sorry. Sorry! And you owe me a couple of those."

"I think you already owe me a couple of the former, actually."

Sam's head popped back up, frowning slightly. "Shit. I'm an awful person."

"Seven minutes. You're not, though."

"Fuck."

"That's the spirit. It's such a nice kilt, though, won't it crease?" Cait grabbed a corner of it between two fingers and rubbed. "I dunno. Maybe you should—"

"It can't come off now, I'll never get it back on again."

"Doesn't this one just have a clasp or something?"

"It's too late. I'm going to explode. Too bad."

 

He hoiked the kilt up, bunched in one hand, and stepped in close. She dropped her handful on the counter and slapped at his fingers, grabbing the bunched kilt from him, letting it fall again and then rolling it in a neat horizontal line from the bottom up.

"Erm, it may crease less this way."

"Until you take your hands away."

"Well then, I won't." Cait hooked her fingers into his waistband, thumbs still looped around his kilt, and smirked up at him. His brow was furrowed and he was staring at her lips.

"I'm kissing you in my mind," he murmured, staring a little longer as her smirk broke into a grin, and she ran her tongue along her teeth. "Are you good there?"

"I'm marvellous, come on then."

 

She wasn't lying. The frustrating thing about being around Sam was that he had an innate ability to turn her insides to liquid just by looking at her. It made her feel slightly ridiculous, but he'd almost convinced her that she had a similar effect on him, too, which was exciting and terrifying and still a bit much to think about, so she pushed it to one side for the hundredth time and hooked her legs up behind his, tucking her heels against his thighs.

 

"This is going to be embarrassingly short," he said quietly, his eyes still focused on her lips, not meeting hers.

"For the best, we've got five minutes."

"Five!?" Sam clenched his jaw and shifted slightly, moving closer, pushing, pushing in. Cait gasped in, her toes curling, fingers in his waistband trying to pull him closer, closer still. She turned her face up to his and it was his turn to remember, darting his head back and quirking an eyebrow at her, silently scolding. She gritted her teeth and leaned backward until her shoulderblades met the wall, arms stretched out in front of her, fingers still tucked tight at his waist. Her elbows flexed as Sam took to thrusting, but the moment her head hit the wall she pulled herself back upright quickly. He didn't stop, but looked down at her with the question in his eyes.

"My hair," she grimaced. He snorted in response and then his eyes narrowed. His tongue darted to the corner of his mouth. He reached up to her shoulder and pulled her bra strap down, his fingers slipping under the loosened cup to take up the role themselves, kneading her skin gently. Not so gently. His fingers grabbed at her ribs and his lips parted as his breaths came shorter and sharper. He was racing the clock, racing home, and she took the chance to drop one hand from his waist to slip between them, pressing down, racing him racing home.

It didn't take long. He'd been right, but he'd also owe her nothing. She tensed up, yelped out, convulsed around him, and he moaned lowly in response, bringing his hands to clutch around her thighs and drive himself home, home, home with a groan. His head was bent over and his shoulders sagged; Cait could see the beads of sweat on his forehead and leaned in to lick at a couple of them, glancing over his shoulder.

"Two minutes."

She patted him on the shoulder and shuffled forward off the counter, nudging him backwards. She grabbed her underwear in one hand and his hand in the other, leading him into the small bathroom for hurried ministrations.

 

"We're not doing this again," she muttered, stepping back into her dressy knickers.

"Hey?" He was staring at her, concern worrying the corner of his mouth.

"I mean after makeup. Carnal desires come before makeup next time." She winked at him, squeezing his arm as she stepped past to grab her dress. "Though you're not like this at home, you know. A bit needy."

"I'm not," he scoffed, lightly scrubbing a washcloth against the fuzz on his chin. "It's just all of it. You know? We're ten places at once. Home is easier to navigate, it's... it just feels—"

"Safe."

"I suppose. Maybe. Not as overwhelming, certainly."

"Certainly." She smiled back at him in solidarity as she stepped back into her dress. "Do me up?"

He came out of the bathroom over to her and silently put her back together again, pinching her waist before crouching down and grabbing her shoes. He held one out for her to slip into, fastening it, repeating with the other as she stretched her arms out either side of her for balance. When he stood back up, she brushed her hands firmly down the front of his kilt and then stood back to survey the damage, glancing across through the bathroom door at her reflection in the mirror to critique all guilty parties.

"Well, I don't think they'll have reason to murder us," she said, satisfied with what she saw. Sam raised an eyebrow, tilting his head at the door, and she nodded briefly in response.

 

He pulled open the hotel door and stepped out, holding out an arm for Cait. She hesitated, and he responded by going to pantomime lengths to check the hallway in both directions before stage whispering the all-clear. She rolled her eyes and stepped out, taking his arm. A moment later, Tobias stepped out of his own room, down the hall. All three froze for a moment. Tobias pursed his lips, seeming to survey the situation.

"Punctual. Our mothers would be proud."

He met them halfway, in front of the elevator, and Sam leapt forward to press the down button. The gentlemen let Cait step in first, falling in line either side of her. The ride down was excruciatingly silent, save for nervous breaths. Cait clenched her fingers to her sweating palms, then brushed them lightly against her dress.

"My, my," Tobias tutted, staring straight ahead as the elevator door opened again, the lobby opening up before them, "what a pickle."

He was out into the lobby first, walking ahead ten paces before spinning on his heel to face them, raising his brows and quickly darting his tongue out at them. He span back again and continued toward the grand front doors where the car stood waiting, idling, people fluttering around and waving hands at them. Sam offered a chivalrous arm to Cait once again and she took it, scrunching her nose at him.

 

"I'm calling shotgun," Sam nodded toward the car, leading them both out of the bubble again.


End file.
